


Various Storms, Various Saints

by chaoticandsad



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Abuse of Authority, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Child Abuse, Conspiracy, Conspiracy Theories, Corrupt Authority, Corruption, Creepypasta, Crime Scenes, Crimes & Criminals, Criminal Web, Detectives, Horror, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Interspecies, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Monsters, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Organized Crime, Other, Possible Character Death, Romance, Scary, Skeletons, Spooky, Stalking, Thriller, Twisted, Urban Legends, possibly other pastas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 12:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticandsad/pseuds/chaoticandsad
Summary: You had never heard of him before. Until her. He never left your mind since.Years later and you have become an accomplished private investigator. Your current case of missing children drags you back to a place you hoped you would never visit again. Not since that night. Teamed with your old mentor and new partner, you find yourselves wound in a web filled with conspiracy, mystery, and corruption. Every turn becomes darker, every layer more confusing. At its very core, you suspect the monster you convinced yourself was a mere urban legend.





	Various Storms, Various Saints

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on going pretty dark. For each chapter that has something I feel should be warned about, I will make the warning before it starts. The warnings may contain small spoilers, but I feel them necessary. Also, possible romance? Depends on how I feel where the story is going. If I do a romance, I will do my best to make it as realistic as possible. Thank you!

These gatherings were never your thing. In fact, church has never been your thing. Here you are, sneaking away from heavily perfumed old ladies and men with superiority complexes. Your grandmother's church reminds you of a labyrinth with its twisting hallways and endless doors for exploring. The first few times you had been dragged here, you slipped away from the gym and made a mental map of the place. The ground floor has one twisting hallway with only four unlocked doors, all classrooms. There are also two staircases, in different places. Staircase One resides near the main entrance, Staircase Two resides near the end of the short, wide hallway. Staircase Two was your favorite place for hiding. Though on this particular gathering, more people than usual turned up, this made it harder for you to slip away. Fortunately, when everyone was distracted by the talent show who took place after dinner, you seized your chance to disappear. 

You retreat for your hiding spot alone, but you find yourself accompanied by another. She has long dark hair pulled into a messy low ponytail, a fading black hoodie hangs just above her knees. She has baggy jeans tucked into brown knee high boots. She gazes at you as though you are some new attraction at a zoo. You pride yourself on your quick yet thorough observations and almost impeccable sense of direction. You hope these two traits will allow your success as a future detective. 

"Let's go in there." Her stuffed voice breaks your pleasant train of thought, you wonder if she has cold. You glance where she is pointing. A door to a classroom.

"It's just a classroom. Also, I've explored this entire place, downstairs and upstairs, there's really nothing that interesting. So you can explore, I'm gonna sit here." You point toward the stairs. She scrunches her brows and leaves. You sigh. For the past two years, you have been shipped up to Washington to spend the summers with your grandmother. She loves the two month long visits, you do too, though you refuse to outwardly show it. You stretch out on the third stair from the top and whip out your phone. You dim the brightness just a smidge. You open up Quotev and begin taking quizzes, you know the girl will probably leave you alone, but just in case. You dim the brightness a bit more.

"What are you reading?"

You groan, "I'm not reading, I'm taking quizzes."

"On Quotev?"

You feel yourself blush, "No! On Buzzfeed. Quotev is dumb."

Your peripheral vision sees her sit on the stair above you. You switch off your phone and glare up at her. She gives you a smug smirk and takes her own phone out. You have never been the most social. This lack of sociability is likely from your shy and introverted nature. Also, you're twelve. 

You burn holes in the wall in front of you. When she nudges your shoulder, your glare deepens. Whipping your most intimidating death stare in her direction, you are met with a strange picture. You notice the picture is her home screen. The figure in the image wears a black suit. The only color is the moon behind him and his red tie. He looks lanky and weak. You do admit to yourself of his looming, almost captivating aura, you chalk this down to his facelessness. 

"Ok? Thanks for showing me a picture of a lanky old man?"

The girl stares at you dumbfounded. Her eyes are round with shock and her lips slightly parted. You find the expression almost comical, though something about her eyes are, off. 

"What?" you ask. She shakes her head and begins typing furiously on her keyboard. She shows you a wiki page.

"This is Slenderman. No one knows if he's real or not. He started out as a creepypasta, now he's an urban legend." she says in this hushed, almost reverent tone.

"Aren't those the same things?" you ask. She glares at you, "No, they're not."

You find her phone is now in your hands, she demands you read the wiki. Desperate for this strange girl to leave you alone, you scan the page-- only a few things stand out.

"So he's really tall, he controls all the other pastas, and he kidnaps children. Oh, and he keeps slaves too. Sounds like a great guy." you say with slight venom in your voice. 

The girl snatches her phone back, "They're not slaves. They're called proxies. Also, I'm gonna summon him. Tonight."

"Ok."

"You should join me. When he comes, you won't be so cocky anymore." she giggles after this statement, giving you unpleasant goosebumps.

You almost say "ok" again, but refrain. You remember your grandmothers friend visiting the other day. She works at the middle school as the nurse. She had been complaining about a sudden outburst of sickness; she said the students said it was a sickness caused by some monster. You wonder if the monster was this Slenderman.

_"Typical of children."_ You remember her saying. 

"Here's my address. You better come." She steps over you and finally leaves you alone. You shove her address in your pocket and resume your quiz-taking. 

*******

You love the bedroom you stay in when visiting your grandmother. A large tapestry of a woman holding her child and flying through the sky adorns the back wall, the one your bed is against. The top of your dresser is decorated with old perfume bottles and a jewelry box of dark mahogany with sapphires embedded in the top. You have always treated the box with a certain reverence, you had never been this close to something with such precious value.

Your bed is not the most comfortable, it always leaves you sore for the first few days of sleeping on it. You love the room nonetheless, yet on this particular night, you find yourself awake, listening to unyielding rain. An eerie, suffocating silence creeps in the room you usually feel comfortable in. Curiosity beckons you from outside in soaked streets. A strange pull dances in your gut, making you feel giddy and restless. You slip from your bed and creep to your jacket. The address is still there, you read it.

_ 365 Endor St_

Your eyebrows rise. You know where this is, in fact, it is one of few places you know how to get to in this city. Quickly, quietly, you dress yourself for a short, chilly walk.

Light raindrops begin drenching your thin jacket, making you shiver. You hope what you are doing is worth it. Usually you never take risks, but this feeling in your gut demands you take this one. You search for the house, it is difficult in a dark night with a light drizzle, which you notice is beginning to pick up. Fortunately for you, the house stands out among the trees who largely cover this street. It is the common duplex of Ampleland, but the house bears only one door. Nearby streetlights show the house's bleak gray walls and dirtied tan trim. You spot light coming from behind the large house. The pull in your gut grows and screams for you to follow that flickering light. 

As you near, you recognize the light as fire. Stupidly, you push on; deep down you know what you are walking into is bad. Your instinct proves itself right when you witness the backyard.

A fire is lit in an enclosed firepit. Three kids your age stand around the fire, arms held up to the sky. They have hoods on their jackets, these hoods hide their faces. You hear a familiar voice mumbling. You figure the girl from that evening is the ringleader. One, who you figure is the girl, lowers her arms and points to you.

"I, Miriam Aberlackey, give this to you, dear Slenderman, our father of darkness and evil."

If the situation had not been utterly terrifying, you would have laughed at the dramatics. Laughed until Miriam pulled a knife from her jacket and sped toward you. Before you could react, she tackled you and leaned to your ear.

"Don't worry, it isn't me who will kill you." She rises, straddling you, raising her knife. To your surprise, you become numb; you feel as though this is a dream, well, more of a nightmare. You furrow your brows, willing yourself to wake. She makes a small cut in her forearm and tips it toward your face. You watch the crimson creep its way toward you. Small drops scatter on your nose, brow, and cheek.

"Ew." you mutter, wiping it off.

"Stop! You'll ruin it you bitch!" Miriam slaps you, you push her off and resist the urge to kick her. Instead, you opt to run away, hoping the rain will wash the blood off your face. You hear her growl and scramble after you.

Her fingers graze your shoulder till a deafening crash sounds behind you; you freeze and almost turn. The inhuman, almost ancient-sounding growl who rolls across the air and shakes the ground convinces your legs to pump faster than they ever had before. You hear a girl and a boy scream. You hear Miriam laugh then scream herself. You keep running. Your head is pounding and you feel something warm pour from your nose. You hope it's your own blood and not more of Miriam's. 

Gasping and wheezing, you collapse on the stairs in front of your grandmothers house. Your lungs burn and both your sides are cramped. You feel hot tears pour from your eyes. Their screams still ring in your head, you figure they have been killed, but by who, you have no clue. You bite your arm to quiet your terrified sobs.

_ Or by what_ you think. A shudder runs through you. No. You refuse to believe in that. You creep back inside, amazed you were never detected. 

Your room oozes warmth and comfort, you accept it gratefully. Making a nest of blankets, you push away this traumatizing night the best you can.

Little did you know.

**Author's Note:**

> We love the classic "Little did you know." Anyway I'm not sure how consistent this will be, but for the current, calm state my life is in right now, I'll say once maybe twice a week. I would also like to say, though it's probably not even a big deal, the city you are in is fictional, but based off a real city I go to. Anyhow, have a lovely day!


End file.
